


Friction

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Convenient Shared Safehouse Character Congregation, F/M, Lemon, Teenagers Having Sex With Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lo’ and behold, the wonders – ahem – of Heero Yuy and Meilan Chang romance! AU. Starring: the bastard sons of paper worms, nattoo early in the morning, and new twists to old clichés.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silver Winged Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Silver+Winged+Dragon).
  * Translation into Nederlands available: [Frictie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102616) by [CattyRosea (Omnicat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/CattyRosea)



The tension between the pilots of Wing and Shenlong was its usual palpable quality. The two were, for some inexplicable reason, like ferocious fighting roosters - with the difference of Chang being a hen.

Quatre didn’t get it.

He could understand how Meilan would let herself get riled up. By any other than Heero, that was. Meilan had a teeny tiny - ahem - lack of patience, and pride to boot. But Heero was not prominent enough in the human interactive network to get on her nerves in any way. It made no sense that she reacted to him so violently.

Heero’s part in the friction (Quatre did not dare call it a relationship) was an even bigger mystery for the blond Arab. Heero didn’t even let Duo get to him as much as he did the Chinese. This while Duo seemed to have made it his greatest hobby to irritate Heero and try to lure him out of his shell, while Meilan did not need to do anything but be around.

What in the heck was going on? Quatre felt a strong urge to shake his fellow pilots until they told him, as he observed them at the breakfast table. It almost seemed like they were trying to provoke each other, tried to get the other to say or do a particular something. But what?

Heero used his usual death glare against the look of hateful disdain Meilan directed towards him. Quatre was glad they had at least chosen the non-verbal approach that morning. Duo would never believe him if he told him how ‘eloquent’ Heero could be. Still, Quatre involuntarily flinched each time an especially violent emotion flared up. What idiot had ever thought Heero Yuy had no emotions?!

"Try the nattoo." said aforementioned Heero Yuy suddenly, motioning to a bowl of the clotty goo with a nod of his head. A penetrating, highly peculiar scent emanated from the inconsiderable mass.

Quatre suddenly wondered whether it had been such a good idea to try to appease his fellow pilots by preparing traditional breakfasts from their fatherland (though in Meilan’s case he had called it ‘motherland’ by way of precaution). Why had he not taken into account that despite everything, Heero and Meilan were fifteen years old? Food fights were not out of the question.

Meilan’s eyebrows drew together suspiciously. "Why?"

‘Scared?’ asked Heero, who somehow managed to make Meiran look ridiculous without the slightest trace of mockery in his voice, expression or posture.

The reaction was to be expected: Meilan jumped up as if stung by a bee.

"No!" the girl hissed, while the carton of milk wobbled and toppled over from the shock she’d caused. Quatre jumped up, put the carton upright and picked up a dishcloth to wipe away the spilled milk, all the while shooting his fellow pilots skittish glances. "You are just not to be trusted."

Quatre thought it sounded almost like a challenge.

Heero looked at her flatly. "I have no reason whatsoever to harm you - or you, Quatre, or any of the others, in any way."

"Now why don’t I believe that?"

Heero leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. With a smooth face he said: "I’m under orders from Doctor J: other pilots of Gundanium alloy mobile suits are not to be harmed unless they pose a danger or an otherwise inescapable obstacle."

J is the one who made you blow yourself up, thought Quatre, who dropped the dish-cloth in the sink with a jerk of his hand.

"And that’s supposed to be a relief?" Meilan said, looking at Heero like he was fooling around with her. "Your judgement of what’s a dangerous obstacle?"

The dark haired boy opened his mouth to reply, but Quatre interrupted him. He’d had enough. His breakfast, his specially cooked breakfast, for which he had conducted extensive research and had spilled blood, sweat and tears (up until then not yet literally), was being neglected, his hypersensitive sixth sense, which was already under so much pressure from his job as a gundam pilot, went totally ignored. And the best thing was, he simply could not figure out why the two of them were so drawn to each other, like suicidal pieces of space scrap on a collision course.

"Why don’t you go spar for a bit, huh?" Quatre impatiently told his Asian colleagues. "To vent your frustrations."

The two actually spared him a glance.

"Like last time?" Meilan asked, eyebrows raised. She almost looked innocent when her gaze returned to Heero.

But it was nothing compared to the face the Wing Gundam pilot made as he remarked: "That didn’t go too well."

"Do it anyway." Quatre snarled, but he was ignored.

As Heero and Meilan looked each other in the eye longer, the atmosphere changed. Heavy and charged and tense at the same time. Meilan looked at Heero from the corner of her eye.

"Not that I’m not willing to try again that way."

A glint appeared in Heero’s eyes.

"Please do that!" Quatre burst out. His fellow pilots didn’t even look up. "You two are giving me a headache, and I have a mission tomorrow night!"

Heero and Meilan stared at each other.

"Accepted." they said in unison.

 

Side by side they stepped out of the hallway connecting the dressing rooms and showers with the gym, careful not to touch each other or look at each other. Both noticed the way the other was dressed, though: Heero wore his usual spandex and sleeveless green shirt, while Meilan had taken off her dark jacket, exposing her white tank top. They both had little else to wear.

...somehow, it was a bit of a disappointment.

The safehouse they were staying at was one of the seemingly endless stream of houses Quatre’s family owned but did not use, tucked away in the countryside outside an insignificant city in a random country somewhere on Earth. Heero had once asked why the Winner family didn’t just bulk buy entire residential blocks, instead of buying and building separate buildings all across the Earth sphere, the existence of which were so easy to lose track of. Which, coming from Heero I’m-Not-Involved-With-The-Rest-Of-The-Human-Race Yuy, spoke volumes of the amount of safehouses the Arab teen had provided.

The house they were currently staying at was - according to the standard of Quatre’s safehouses - not very large, nor luxurious. It was one of the addresses Quatre’s family hadn’t shown any interest in for ages. Its presence in the woodland area had been all but forgotten: the three gundam pilots were the first inhabitants in years. The kitchen and some bedrooms were actually the only rooms with decent furniture, since Quatre had had that taken care of beforehand. The rest of the house was ruinous because of the lack of maintenance, filled only with dust and a myriad of mice nests. The gym was no exception.

Heero and Meilan stared.

"Oh." said Meilan eventually, frowning disapprovingly with her mouth.

"So it is..." Heero mumbled.

Meilan finally looked at him. "The boys’ dressing rooms were just as bad?"

"I though the girls’ dressing rooms had simply been given more attention, seeing as there are fourteen and a half times more Winner females than Winner males." He already sounded less combatitive.

A crooked smile threatened to turn the corner of Meilan’s mouth. She frowned quickly to prevent that from happening. "Well, they didn’t. This is negligence from Winner’s side."

Heero stepped forward and wandered through the dilapidated space, testing the floor and equipment and investigating the practice weapons critically. What he found was even more deplorable than it looked from a couple of feet away. Eventually, he nonchalantly smashed a quarterstaff to pieces against the wall. Dropping the useless stump, he turned to Meilan.

"Forget it. I’m not going to fight for the sake of formality under these conditions."

Meilan, who had been prodding a bar-bell that had been corroded almost in half, swirled around. "What?!"

Heero took her indignation calmly. "We can both receive a mission at any given time. We have to be in tiptop shape for that. The risk of one of us catching tetanus or being skewered on a dodgy piece of metal or wood is too great. I’m not going to risk my ability to fulfil missions successfully for a triviality such as this."

With that, he set out for the exit.

Meilan cursed, infuriated. "Coward! You’re just chicken, you honourless -"

Heero’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at her over his shoulder. "Save me the moralistic preaches. We both know this isn’t about a fight. Not that kind of fight."

Meilan’s fierce black eyes bore into Heero’s steely blue ones as she made a few steps toward him, quickly moving between him and the exit. "You mean you don’t want to bail out of this? Becaus it sounds like a lame excuse to me."

His pace actually faltered before he came to a stop right in front of her.

"I don’t have to go through with this." he told her softly and relentlessly. "I have my orders. No-one, and I mean no-one, will keep me from fulfilling them to perfection. I’ll kill you like the next best OZ soldier if I have to."

Knowing that he meant what he said at that moment and that she was taking a huge risk, Meilan put a step forward, bringing her almost nose to nose with Heero. He did not recoil, but he froze visibly. The substantial danger she was in did not deter Meilan. The warrior Nataku had found a warrior, a fighter like herself. A fighter who’s worthiness she would have to test. Whether he liked it or not.

"You’re afraid to take the risk." Meilan concluded. "You’re afraid you’ll lose, even if you win. Such hesitance doesn’t suit a soldier, Yuy."

"Arrogance like yours doesn’t suit a soldier, Meilan." he countered. "‘Pride before the fall.’"

Meilan shook her head disgustingly. "It’s a matter of honour, but what would a soldier like yourself know about that."

Heero snorted. "I know that it doesn’t help you win a battle, and that honour’s not going to win this war for us."

"That is because you have no honour. Without righteousness all this fighting is meaningless." Meilan said accusingly.

"I have a duty." Heero suddenly flared up. Meilan involuntarily flinched upon meeting his burning gaze. "And nothing will keep me from fulfilling it. No matter how many limbs I’ll have to give for it, no matter how many hearts and promises I have to break. No matter how many innocents will have to be sacrificed..." He breathed heavily and suddenly looked away.

Meilan stared at him. "What duty?" she asked softly. "The colonies have turned against us. What are you still fighting for?"

"Peace." came the answer. Heero looked up at her with clear, determined eyes. "That’s all that is left. Peace or death. Relena once said something, about Earth and space having to learn to coexist. She was right, but blood will have to be shed to make that happen. My blood, not that of innocent civilians, if I can help it."

"That is the noblest thing I’ve ever heard you say." Meilan murmured. She was beginning to feel all warm inside with the realisation he was exactly what she had hoped he would be like. Nataku had found her partner, now all Meilan had to do was claim him.

For a moment confusion flitted across Heero’s face, before his expression hardened.

"Honour has nothing to do with it."

She repressed the urge to laugh at his naivety. "On the contrary, Soldier. Your honour has just convinced me that it’s no use taunting you any longer. I have the answers I was looking for. Now it’s up to you."

This time the confusion didn’t leave his features as quickly. "Do you mean..."

"You were right." Meilan looked around the decrepit training room. "This is not a suitable place for the confrontation I was aiming at." She looked him in the eyes and challenged him, with that look, the tone of her voice, the curve of her back and the angle of her shoulders. "There’s been enough fighting, it’s time we... learn to coexist. I’ll be in the woods, exercising. Alone. Come to me there, or to my room tonight."

Abruptly she turned and walked away, leaving an utterly baffled Heero behind. He stared after her, speechless.

Why did women always react so differently than he expected? First Relena with her suicidal determination, and now Meilan. Did they do that on purpose, to confuse him?

 

As soon as Heero slipped into Meilan’s room that night, Quatre, who sat bent over a map in his own room, suddenly and inexplicably developed a splitting headache.

Meilan had spent the entire day doing katas and meditating in the woods (in other words, alternately kicking trees under the show of keeping in shape, and plunking down on her behind to stare dully ahead), while her thoughts were going in frustrating circles in her head. She didn’t know what Heero had been up to the entire day, but she was sure it had something to do with that laptop of his - it always had to do with that laptop of is. Was his skull so thick he didn’t get her hints? By the time Quatre called her in for dinner, her patience was all but spent. She could strangle him when he disappeared after the meal, making it unable to find him anywhere in the house. The feeling didn’t wane as she waited longer and longer in her room.

That’s why the first thing Meilan did when her door opened, was go for Heero’s throat.

Heero, on the other hand, had been trained to think in straight lines and solid aims for years. As such (not counting the instinctive alarm bells that rung every time someone violated his personal space), it did not occur to him at all that Meilan could have other intentions than the one he had become convinced she had. What else could her intentions be, when she suddenly treated him so differently after months of baiting him? After an unusually long, unproductive day of weighing and comparing allusions and body language, it was the only conclusion he could arrive to, and after having suffered inexplicable spells of overheating for the rest of the day, the best approach seemed to just play it her way, if only to be able to finally get her off his mind.

That’s why Heero’s first reaction was to grab Meilan’s wrists and kiss her before he could change his mind.

An almost comical widening of her eyes and a stinging slap to his cheek was the result.

"How dare you?!" Meilan screeched.

Heero stared at her wide-eyed, not even noticing the red mark on his cheek.

"What the heck is it with you?!’ He breathed heavily through his nose. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?"

"What? How - I -’ Meilans voice caught. What exactly was it that she wanted? This, right? Throughout the entire war she’d been a mess of nerves and the only thing she wanted was to fight, alongside him, because he fought well, he was righteous, but she didn’t want to fight, she just wanted - why, why did her consciousness have to kick in with such lousy timing?

Meilan looked away, furiously trying to swallow her tears. The silence screeched deafeningly in her ears, rasping over her eardrums, until she had goose bumps all over her body.

"Well?" Heero repeated coldly. "What do you want from me? I can do a lot of things, but mind reading isn’t on the list."

Her head jerked up, and when her glistening eyes met his, they burned from a determination born from despair.

"You. I want you. I want you to -" again her voice caught, and Meilan cursed her own weakness in the presence of the one she had chosen as a worthy partner. Why did her strength always fail her when she had to prove herself to a man? She was Nataku, she wasn’t supposed to be weak! At her wit’s end, she tried another track.

"What do you want?" she snapped, the cocky shield held up high again. "You could kill me so easily, didn’t you say that just this morning? Then why don’t you do that, instead of coming here. Why - why did you kiss me?"

Heero’s answer was immediate; his voice did not waver, but it seemed foreign to his own ears. "Because it’s the only way to get my thoughts straight. You’re constantly on my mind. Ever since he first time you called me an ‘honourless android’, but I don’t know why. Your childish taunts should not bother me - honour is useless in battle, and a warzone is no place for humans anyway. Yet every time I see you I ask myself the most irrelevant, the most idiotic things, like how your skin feels or which scent lingers in your hair. And when I can’t see you my thoughts go back to you, and I try to understand why you say and to the things you say and do. And I don’t know how to ignore you. I can ignore even Duo, I can block out his presence completely and not notice he’s around until his idiotic babble turns to mission relevant topics, but you I can’t even forget when you’re halfway across the planet." He breathed in deeply after that unusually long tirade.

Meilan did not gasp for breath nor did her knees buckle, but she felt light-headed, and her heart leapt up in her chest as she realised that what Heero was saying was exactly how she felt, and it beat somewhere underneath her tongue, high up in her throat.

"And that’s why," Heero went on, more slowly now, while he looked her in the eyes deeply, searching for something. "I can’t simply leave or kill you. It would only make things worse. I would be left with questions and the knowledge that they will never be answered. Even now your face and voice won’t leave me alone, the memories might be able to make me unsuitable to complete my assignments, and I cannot take that risk. The only solution seems to be closer interaction."

Well, that was not quite how Meilan was feeling, but it was enough. With a deep breath she managed to regain her balance and dignity, and achor her mind to her body. She was Nataku, and she had found a warrior worthy of her. He was willing and ignorant and the only thing she had to do was claim him - which looked like it would be a piece of cake. She felt a smile take over her lips, almost laughed out loud, even.

"So you want answers." she summarised. When he looked at her sharply and nodded, she grinned and put her fists to her hips. If both their reasoning hadn’t been as dry as a desert, Meilan would have been gagging from the sickly-sweet romantic atmosphere. "All right. If I think you deserve them, I’ll let you search for answers to your heart’s content."

Midnight blue eyes narrowed and looked at her slantingly, which she knew meant a question.

"Do you know what seduction means, soldier?"

Heero’s eyes narrowed further. Meilan laughed, shook the hair from her eyes and slowly slunk backwards, towards her bed.

"Do you know what hunting means, Soldier?"

A tiny, almost incredulous smile played on the Japanese’s lips, and realisation alighted in his eyes. With a glistening of eyes and teeth he moved in her direction, and before she knew what was coming he had her locked in a hungry kiss, his hands buried in her hair possessively, partially undoing the pigtails she wore it in. With a satisfied moan, she parted her lips against his and lured out his tongue, inviting it into her mouth. It was not long before he got the hang of it, after which it became a game of cat and mouse between their lips, until Meilan decided it had been enough, and withdrew.

Answering an instinct, she buried his face in his neck to sniff up his scent and taste his skin. He obediently exposed more of his neck for her, while his fingers took the bands from her hair to comb through it, muss it up, then smooth it out again. Eventually his hands wandered down, from her neck to her shoulders until they reached her top.

He tore away from her kneading lips to look at her questioningly. She raised an eyebrow and, without looking away from his face, pulled his shirt from his shorts. His arms went up obediently when she pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. For a moment she wondered how many of those horrible green things he had, because he seemed to wear them day and night. But then Meilan’s attention was claimed by the shadows playing over his chest in the light of the lamp on her bed stand, and the feeling of his scarred skin beneath her fingertips. Heero’s arms slid around her and underneath her white shirt while she followed the contours of his abs and pecs and teased his brown nipples; his hands slid up her back and he found out she wasn’t wearing her bra anymore this late at night at the same moment Meilan was surprised by the presence of underwear on him, under his tight spandex shorts.

Chuckling, she fell to her knees, taking his pants with her, while he lifted up the hem of her shirt. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she tugged the shirt all the way over her head, exposing her springy breasts. The cool air and Heero’s presence, particularly the slow but steady growth of the bulge in his pants, was enough to make her nipples contract to taut pikes. She pulled herself onto the edge of the bed and leaned back, legs spread in invitation.

Heero’s head spun when he kneeled, put his hands on her shoulders, moved down where cloth had obstructed his path before. Meilan arched her back, gasping, when he took her breasts into his hands, and he eagerly covered her parted lips with his.

Meilan was on cloud nine. Never had Wufei taken up on her challenges like this. Heero, this soldier, this nameless warrior, was proving to be an even better catch than she’d ever dared to hoped for.

And you’re all mine.

Then a thought came to her.

She broke loose, gasping for breath. "What about Relena?"

Heero stared at her with glassy eyes. "What about Relena?"

"Won’t she see this as betrayal of her love?"

"Ugh. That's different" he said impatiently, and resumed sucking on her neck.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes I'm sure." he growled, fingers digging into her hips. "I wouldn't be here if we both weren't sure."

That was exactly what she wanted to hear. Meilan laughed from the back of her throat and buried her hands in his delightfully thick hair while he let his mouth roam further and further down.

"What about your husband?" he asked suddenly, his nose between her breasts. No matter how deep and manly and sensual his voice sounded, her lust was frozen immediately. Suddenly angry, she yanked his head up by the hair, until he looked her in the eye fiercely. She saw he had to restrain himself not to overpower her as a reflex, washing the damper on her lust away with a new wave of excitement.

"Wufei," she spat, "is weak. A wimpy scholar boy. That bastard son of a paperworm is not worthy of Nataku." Are you? she challenged him with her eyes.

Heero growled and suddenly had her pinned to the mattrass. His mouth descended on her skin mercilessly, like he wanted to devour her whole, but was at the same time competing with his hands, which left not an inch of her body unexplored. He slid her pants and panties off her hips in one move while she pulled down his last article of clothing. Or what she thought to be his last - other than his growing erection, the sight of which was nothing new to her as a married woman, his socks caught her attention as she looked down.

"Off with those," she snarled, fitting the action to the word, causing them to topple over each other on the bed.

Before Heero could do anything, his arms were pinned against the mattrass above his head, and Meilan was straddling him. The feeling of her naked legs parting on top of his stomach made his blood race through his groin. The dark hairs between her legs tickled his skin as she slowly wriggled further down. When her buttocks came into contact with his swollen member, Heero was hard pressed not to groan. Meilan grinned down on him and kept rubbing her lower body against him, lifting herself up every now and then to continue her torture from the other side, rubbing along his shaft and testicles, leaving wet, sticky trails when she pulled her knees up a little further to squeeze extra tightly, but never more than that.

"Stop that." he managed to grind out between clenched teeth. Meilan smirked.

"Can’t handle a little foreplay, Soldier?" She leant down and pressed her breasts against his chest, bringing her face mere inches from his, her loose hair brushing along his jaws. The maddening gyrating of her hips against his and the feeling of all that skin nearly made him come.

Just as abruptly as the last time, the tables were turned. At the same moment his head shot forward and he invaded Meilan’s mouth with his lips, he pulled up his knees, clutched at her hips and looped his legs around hers, thus pressing her against him more tightly. Not an inch was left between them. Meilan’s eyes slid closed as she was pulled deeper into the kiss. Her attention slackened, and her bruising grip on his wrists along with it. That was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Without warning, he pulled his forearms from her sweaty hands and wrapped them around her torso. With a jerk, he managed to manoeuvre himself on top of her, breaking their passionate kiss in the process. Hard muscles and girlish softness melded together underneath his fingertips on their way down to the spot between her legs it was all about. He found the centre of her slickened folds and coolly pushed his fingers inside, earning himself a gasp.

"What are you waiting for?" Meilan asked in a husky voice, looking up at him with glazed eyes. "It’s ten times better already than any of my other times, there’s no need to fear you’ll make a fool of yourself."

Heero withdrew his fingers to instead use them to grab her hips when he brought his erection into her. Her smothered moans drowned his out. Not even halfway inside he pulled back, in a controlled movement, while his head spun and he felt like he could faint at any moment. But Meilan wrapped her arms and legs around him and pulled him back inside, deeper than before. With jerky movements they repeated this gesture, time and time again, deeper and deeper, clumsy and out of sync at first, but their bodies gradually found a rhythm that made them more and more desperate, forced them to go faster, harder, until Meilan uttered a hoarse cry and cramped around Heero, inside and out, until he burst...

Spent and sweaty they lay gasping for breath, shining bronze skin, dark hair and slowly calming blood, and an expression of liberation, of completion.

 

"Why did this happen?" asked Heero suddenly.

"Huh?" Meilan raised her head from her newfound pillow; his chest. "What kind of question is that?"

Heero shifted somewhat so he would look at her, a pondering look on his face. "I should have ignored you from the beginning. You are a distraction and paying attention to you brings risks."

Meilan grinned while she turned to her lie on her belly and propped herself up on her elbows. Heero’s eyes slid down from her face. Her breasts may not have been big, but the way they dangled there sure was tempting...

"Apparently, even you aren’t immune to hormones, Soldier."

A miniscule smile made his lips twitch as he looked away. Meilan could only see it because she was practically on top of it.

"Apparently." he admitted - to the ceiling. ‘Hmpf. The only thing stopping Doctor J from giving me hormone repressants was that it would stunt growth. He still complains I’m too frail, sometimes."

Meilan mentally raised an eyebrow at his sudden talkative mood. Boy, did he need to get layed.

"Frail?" she asked teasingly. "You? Shall I test that for him?" She tickled around his belly button with a finger and he stiffened, a strange, squeaky sound just past his tightly shut lips.

"Oh! You’re ticklish!" she exclaimed excitedly, and mercilessly pounced on him.

For the sake of honesty, she had to admit that night: Me too, apparently.

 

Quatre couldn’t get a wink of sleep. He felt tight in the chest, and he was uncomfortably warm. The waves of emotion coming from his fellow pilots made no sense at all anymore. One moment they were attacking each other, the next, they were intensely pleased, and then they were challenging each other again. When Heero and Meilan finally calmed down, he turned and looked at the clock on his nightstand. Moaning, he dropped his face into the pillow.

Curiously enough, he slept better for the rest of the night than he had in ages.

 

The next morning, Meilan was already lapping up nattoo at the kitchen table, smug like a satiated cat, when Heero came down the stairs. Quatre stiffened instinctively when he heard the light footsteps approach, bracing himself for the biting, harsh emotions that could erupt around him at any moment. Meilan peered at Heero from beneath her lashes.

"Good morning Soldier." Even her voice sounded like a cat’s purr, soft and deep and rumbling... threateningly?

His lips curled mockingly. "Nataku."

"Have a nice sleep?"

He shot her a sidelong look that said ‘You should know.’ and accepted his breakfast from Quatre, who had again drawn for chef’s duties that day (and, mysteriously enough, every other day in every other safehouse the pilots had ever stayed in), and stood at the counter with hunched shoulders. The blond Arab gave him a strange look with it. Heero grinned while he sat down opposite Meilan and Quatre’s look shifted to her.

Meilan raised an eyebrow at him and gulped down what was left of her breakfast.

"Is something the matter, Winner?" she asked in a sugary voice.

 

Three weeks later found the pilots of Wing, Deathscythe, Sandrock and Shenlong cramped together in a small rented apartment in a busy city on the other side of the planet. Quatre had, to his suspicion, just been drawn for kitchen duties again and sharply scrutinized the too innocent, the imperturbable, and the arrogant faces of his fellow pilots. But he had been raised to be too polite to outright claim he was being framed, and he was by nature too empathic to refuse to fulfil his tasks. So while Duo and Meilan fought over the bedrooms (it was, of course, of the utmost importance to have the best bed during the scant few days they would be staying here) and Heero took the opportunity to plug in his laptop and claim the bed nearest the power outlet, Quatre was in the kitchen preparing dinner. This is what his father had had him made a boy for...

Heero watched as Meilan bent her back like a hissing cat to protect the room she’d claimed - the one with access to the only bathroom - against the ‘American invasion-teen with his ridiculous braid’, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Give up Duo, if she wants to succumb to her need of a make-up mirror it’s her problem." he said coolly, the tiny amount of arrogance in his voice undoubtebly meant as another insult...

"Are you kidding, Heero!" Duo exclaimed unnoticed. "I need that room, otherwise I’ll -"

...and that was exactly how it was interpreted. Meilan threw Heero a blistering look. "What was that, Yuy?" she hissed, voice dangerously soft.

"You heard me."

Within seconds the tension between the two, which had waned somewhat in the exhausted aftermath of their last mission, was palpable once again.

"I sure did. And I want you to say it to me face to face, you coward!" Meilan yelled in a high pitched voice, leaning forward like she wanted to inflict as much damage to Heero’s hearing as she could without having to step closer to him. The tiny, contemptuous smile appeared on Heero’s lips again while he too bent forward, until the faces of both Asians were mere inches from each other.

"Go ahead," Heero said softly. "Take your chance to have first access to the bathroom."

"Hey, I don’t wanna be a pain, but I really need that first turn." Duo said, somewhere in the background.

"I understand; you’re a girl and as such suffer from the pitiful, unjust inferiority complex that characterises your sex and prompts them to waste valuable time in front of the mirror every morning. But a warrior like you should know better."

"My hair is five times as long as hers!" Ornament Maxwell protested.

"I call taking the time to pull my hair out of my face in the morning less unprofessional than your approach, Yuy; don’t take the trouble to comb your hair in the and let it fall into your eyes at all times. Oh, I understand you want something to make you look like a man, with that effeminate figure of yours. Yeah, real tough, getting blinded by your own hair in combat."

"Bangs aren’t that inconvenient. They only give me trouble when they’re soaking wet, because then there’s no spring in it anymore and they stick to my eyelids -" the Braided Phantom of the Rented Apartment announced to the walls.

Heero leant another bit closer and whispered something into Meilan’s ear that brought a furious blush to her face - and which Duo couldn’t follow because he was looking at Meilan’s wrong ear. A peculiar expression crossed Meilan’s features, but was quickly replaced by the triumphant kind one usually sees on the face of someone who has just been able to outsmart his or her enemies by that same enemy’s own actions.

"So that’s why you don’t want me to put it into pigtails. You’re jealous!" she concluded mockingly, head thrown back.

"The only one he should be jealous of is me! You know, the guy with the meter-long braid he has to take out and rebraid every morning to keep it somewhat manageable, and therefore deserves the first rights to the bathroom?" an incorporeal voice said without sound.

Heero responded in calm but quick - in other words, unintelligible for born and bred Americans - Japanese. Meilan looked like she had bitten in a lemon he had offered her as a peach.

"Don’t even think about it, Yuy. I know a couple of pieces of anatomy up for grabs on you as well!"

This was where the voice in the wings finally died away. The activity caught in his brain for a moment when he tried to digest this last piece of conversation. And then it started up again trice as fast. Which words had he discerned in Heero’s monotone miniature tirade? Mune, breast? Hadaka no, naked? (Yes, Duo could speak some Japanese. It just wouldn’t do for him not to speak his partner’s native language at all.) Pretty please?

Duo almost swallowed his tongue in his attempts not to scream or burst out laughing - he wasn’t yet sure which option was more appropriate - while his Asian colleagues bent closer and closer to each other and hissed ever more softly. As a precaution, he stuffed his fingers into his mouth and backed away until he hit the wall with his back.

But from that angle he could see the gun Heero always wore tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. All the blood that had risen to his cheeks and ears because of the closing distance between Heero and Meilan, drained from Duo’s face. If Heero noticed him standing in the hallway now, he’d be shot. If Meilan noticed him standing in the hallway now, he’d be put to the sword. If he left now, he’d miss the show of a lifetime.

While Duo was being torn between his panicking sense of self-preservation and his skyrocketing libido and mischief, Heero and Meilan had stopped talking and were now very slowly... That did it. Duo’s bucket of ambrosia tipped over, letting the precious contents drain away. He shuffled backwards, his braid stuffed into his mouth, until he rounded the corner of the hallway, made an improvised pirouette and dove into the kitchen headfirst, finding Quatre slicing potatoes.

"Quatre, Quatre, you’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you!" he squealed, excitedly bouncing up against the rich Arab.

Quatre did not look up. "Is this about Heero and Meiran?" he asked dully. "I’m sorry Duo, but you won’t shock me with that. I’ve spent more time with them than you have, the past few weeks. I should have told you, but I thought you wouldn’t believe me anyway."

Duo’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. "Y - you knew?!"

"It’s hard to miss, Duo." the small blond boy mumbled, and sighed. He took a new potato and started peeling it. "You’ll find out... they’re very loud. And physically rough too, lately. I’m afraid I did more harm than good by sending them outside, back then. Their feelings have only heated further."

Duo gaped at Quatre. This couldn’t be happening... Quatre was his friend, he was supposed to tell him things like this!

"You pervy little sneaky..." Duo stopped mumbling when Quatre looked up, shocked. He put his hands on his hips. "You think that’s funny? Not telling me of what’s going on around here? Keeping all the fun to yourself?"

"Duo! You don’t expect me to - to repeat the vulgarities those two snarl at each other day by day! I get a headache just listening to them!"

Duo stared at Quatre, his hands sliding down from his hips. Snarl at each other? "... what are you talking about, Quatre?"

The Sandrock pilot stared back with a look that was just as bewildered as the one he received from Deathscythe’s pilot.

"Heero and Meilan’s constant bickering, of course! That’s what you just ran away form, isn’t it? They almost drove me mad too, the last time we were in one of my safehouses together."

"Bickering..." Duo said tentatively, biting the inside of his cheek as not to grin. "Nothing else?"

"No, there is something else, I just told you. I sent those two outside about two months ago so I could prepare my mission without being smothered by their emotions, and three weeks ago I told them to go to the gym to vent their frustrations. It didn’t work; they’ve even taken up fistfights since then! I walk into the kitchen in the morning and there’s Heero, smirking at Meilan’s split lip, despite the red scratches across his own shoulders..."

Duo dropped his head into his hands and grinned against his fingers.

"You’re actually oblivious, aren’t ya’, Quatre?" He looked up to the blonde from between his fingers, his suspicions being confirmed by the innocent confusion in his friend’s aqua-coloured eyes. Bursting out laughing, he let himself fall against the counter. "Christ, Quatre, and you’re supposed to be the one with the ‘Space Heart’..."

"Duo, I’m afraid you’re not making much sense to me..." said Quatre hesitantly.

"Quatre... just go take a look at what they’re doing. I’ll peel the potatoes, for a change."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
